


The Roses Have Wilted, The Violets are dead...

by SatanDaddy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Depressed Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Injured Stiles Stilinski, Neglected Stiles Stilinski, Reckless Stiles Stilinski, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Self-Harm, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23212624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatanDaddy/pseuds/SatanDaddy
Summary: The Demons Run Circles, Round and Round In My Head.ORStiles is fading. Fast. Scott doesn't care anymore, his father doesn't even notice he's never home... Even Stiles can't be bothered to care.What's the point anyway?
Relationships: Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 152





	The Roses Have Wilted, The Violets are dead...

**Author's Note:**

> Contains swearing, blood, suicidal and depressing thoughts, self harm.

It was a normal day. Normal enough, at least.

He woke up, cleansed his face of the tear stains of last night's break down, skipped breakfast, wore his long sleeves and baggy clothes to hide the weight he'd lost and the lines across his arms.

He drove to school.

Like any other day, he plastered a big, beautiful smile on his face and laughed and joked and did what he always did. 

Because he was _Stiles._

And Stiles wasn't sad.

He was meant to hang out with Scott after school but Scott had told him he was taking Kira out to a movie. And that was okay. It's not like Fridays were _their_ movie days.

And when he got home, the smell of alcohol leads him to the kitched. His dad, slumped in his seat, filling his glass again with a shaky hand and not even seeing him standing there in the doorway. It was a surprise, but it's fine. His dad is an adult, he can drink if he wants. It's not like Stiles could stop him anyway.

So he goes to his room. He busies himself. Distracts himself from the heavy sadness constantly lingering in his head. Ignores the tempting blade he knows is in his drawer. He knows he promised himself not to do that anymore, but he couldn't help but keep the blade.

Just in case.

He stops sleeping. The lack of food didn't really let him anyway. And the nightmares werent exactly pleasant.

So instead, he studies. He researches, he reads, he does everything he can to pass his classes, be the son his dad wanted. He knew he couldnt but he had to try.

And that was fine.

But then, one night his dad drank one too many, and the truth came out.

He was a disappointment. He was a burden. He was nothing.

And that was fine.

So he stopped caring. He started getting reckless, taking more risks, facing more supernatural creatures. It didn't matter anymore, nothing did. He didn't care, and neither did anyone else.  
And that was fine.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Today was a bad day.

And it set him off. Triggered him, whatever you want to call it. But it made him numb, emptying any emotion or will or strength left in him.  
So he locked himself in his room. He opened the drawer...

He grabbed his razor.  
And he cut.  
Not deep ones, only little ones, just enough to feel something. The sharp sting as the blade sliced his skin, warm blood trickling down his arm slowly. And it was enough.  
For now.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it.


End file.
